A Day at the Beach
by Lavender and Hay
Summary: An extension of the Baxley scene at the beach.
1. Chapter 1

**Extra scene from the episode where they do to the beach.**

Her eyes followed him as he stood up. He did it with surprisingly little difficulty, given that he had been sitting on the ground, on sand too, it surprised her for a moment. He stood up, and brushed the creased out of his trousers.

"Do you fancy a walk, Miss Baxter?"

He was standing, tentatively extending his hand for her. She smiled, looking at the glimpse of his palm that she could see.

"Alright, Mr Molesley," she replied quietly, taking it and allowing him to pull her up, "That sounds nice."

She was surprised for a moment by his strength, but then she remembered the village fair and his rather surprising performance then. She suppressed a grin at the memory, waiting for him as he bent down again to scoop up the rug she had been sitting on.

"In case we fancy having a sit down somewhere else," he explained.

She smiled her approval and they set off at a gentle pace over the sand. She was a little unsure of her footing at first. Half-expecting at least a raise of the eyebrows as they passed Mrs Patmore, she was more than a little relieved to see the cook with her head leaning back in the chair, her sunhat resting over her eyes. They exchanged a wry smile between themselves, and slipped past. She was glad when they reached the wooden walkway at the back of the beach, and again when he extended his hand to help her again.

She continued to hold on to his fingers once he had stepped up beside her.

"Have you seen Mr Carson anywhere?" she asked him.

"I think he was down by the sea with Mrs Hughes," he replied, "Why?"

She smiled at him gently.

"That's good," she told him, "They won't mind us then."

He looked down at their joined hands as she gently laced their fingers together. She waited for him to meet her eyes, needing reassurance that he was alright with this. And she got in when he did.

They walked on in silence for a while, faster now that their footing was a little more steady. It was very bright and very warm. She would have been forced to squint had it now been for the brim of her hat.

"Where are we going?" he asked her after a moment, "Not that I mind particularly," he added hurriedly.

She glanced at him. He wasn't wearing a hat and she didn't want him to catch too much of the sun.

"We could go down into the dunes," she told him, "It might be a little bit cooler there. I don't want you to over heat."

"Yes," he agreed, "It will be nice and cool there. And quiet."

She nodded gently, leading him off the path on the side furthest the sea. The sand slopped down steeply and the momentary stability they'd gained was all but gone. But it was certainly shadier, cooler, and the beginnings of grass were growing and blowing back and forth whenever a hint of breeze started.

"Do you want to sit down?" he asked her, indicating the blanket he had brought with him.

"Yes, let's before we fall down," she agreed, grinning.

He spread the blanked as best he could on the slopping sand. The incline was so steep that when she eased herself onto the blanket, she was practically lying flat, so she did, taking off her hat and stretching out with her head laid against the blanket. She could see him looking at her, wondering if it would be alright for him to do so too.

"You were right," she told him softly, "It's very quiet here. I can hardly hear the beach."

The steep slope of the dune obscured them completely from sight. All she could hear was the water, and his breathing.

He settled down beside her, lying flat on his back. He was nervous but companionable. She smiled, rolling onto her side looking at him. His eyes were closed. They lay in silence for a few moments.

"Did you mean what you said before?" he asked her, his eyes still closed, "About me making you stronger?"

She examined his face in silence for a few moments.

"Yes," she replied before he opened his eyes, "Of course I did."

She saw the semblance of a frown forming on his face, through his closed eyes.

"Do you find that difficult to believe?" she asked curiously.

"Yes," he answered without hesitation.

She smiled.

"You shouldn't," she told him gently.

He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at her.

"You're strong on your own," he replied, "Without my help. Why should you need my help?"

"Nevertheless, I do," she told him, "Whether or not there's a clear reason. It's true, I do."

He looked at her carefully.

"I believe you," he told her softly, "If that's what you say. I know you wouldn't lie."

Her breath caught a fraction.

"What?" he asked her.

"Nothing," she replied swiftly.

She was sure that her reply didn't convince him but he didn't press her. She waited a moment.

"I think I'd be lost without you," she told him softly, "Honestly."

"Now that I don't believe," he told her gently, smiling at her, "But I'm glad you think I make the difference," he was more than smiling, he was beaming at her, "Very glad."

She watched his face with a gentle look, enjoying his smile, his look of happiness as he settled his head back against the rug.

She leant up a little, resting on her arm, fidgeting with her fingers a little, watching him.

"Can I ask you a question, Mr Molesley?"

"Of course."

"Would you kiss me? If you thought I wanted you too?"

His eyes opened and he looked at her, his faced covered with a look of great surprise.

"Yes," he murmured, immediately, the word slipping out, "Hypothetically," he qualified, a second later, "If you wanted me too."

She grinned, bowing her head, stifling a laugh. Then she raised her head, and looked at him again.

She wasn't sure if he looked so alarmed because of what she'd asked him or because the way she was watching him was positively predatory. Nor was she sure what exactly had prompted her to ask him-… maybe it was the warmth, maybe it was the giddiness of day off or of being alone together-… More likely it was the fact that she'd been wondering what the answer to that question would be for a while now.

"Would you let me kiss you?" she asked him curiously, leaning a little closer to him.

He nodded.

"If you wanted to," he qualified.

She smiled, leaning forwards, pressing her lips gently against his. He leant up into the kiss, capturing her lips, surprising her a little bit. His hand came up from his side, resting gently against the back of her hair, holding her face to his. Her hand moved too, cupping his cheek softly, stroking his skin with the pad of her thumb.

She was lying with her body leaning over his, and that did not change even as their kiss ended. She rested her hand softly against his shirt front and his hand touched one of her shoulder blades.

"I've been wanting to do that for quite a while, Mr Molesley," she told him quietly.

"Joseph," he told her breathlessly, "Call me, Joseph."

"Alright," she replied, smiling down at him, "You should gave me Phyllis, too then."

He nodded. She sank back down for a moment, kissing him again. Her hair was heavy and under the pressure of his hand, little strands of it were falling around her face.

"Is this what you had in mind when you suggested a walk?" she asked him gently, running her hand down the front of his shirt, feeling him shiver.

"Is this what you had in mind when you accepted?" he asked, the reply trembling a little in his throat.

She grinned at his reply; it was only fair.

"Something like it."

Her hand was lingering by his belt. She sat up a little further, checking herself.

"We'll have to be careful," she told him regretfully, "We can't get too carried away here."

"No," he agreed, still looking a little unsure.

She smiled at him again.

"And before you ask, or say you don't believe it," she told him, "Yes, I would like to-… get carried away. With you. But maybe not here."

He nodded, looking as if he was trying to steady himself.

"We'll work something out," he told her softly, sitting up beside her.

"Yes," she agreed, turning her head to look at him, "We will."

There was a moment's pause.

"Kiss me again, Joseph," she murmured.

His hand cupped her face, bringing her lips to his as he kissed her passionately. She wrapped one of her arms around his neck, holding him to her, her heart beating wildly.

"I love you, Phyllis," he murmured between kisses.

She smiled as they broke apart.

"I love you too," she replied softly, allowing her lips to meet his again, briefly, "But we should go back."

"You're right," he nodded regretfully.

This time as he extended his hand to help her, it was not shyly and she hung tightly on to him.

 **Please review if you have the time.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A bit more, because I can't leave a oneshot alone.**

That night she did not sleep soundly. Her skin was still warm from the day in the sun and, along with her hair, smelt of salt from the sea air. She lay awake for a long while, thinking about what they'd said to each other and what they had done. She looked up at the ceiling and thought about those kisses, and thought about him telling her he loved her.

She slipped into a dream of those kisses, and more. She felt herself flush with the warmth of the sand and her desire as his hands roamed her body more liberally than at the beach. She shifted in her sleep, flushing a little, sighing gently.

She could hear the sound of the sea in her ears. The world was swaying around her in her dreaming mind, ebbing and flowing with his breathing and the gentle movements of his hands. They moved over her back, down over the light skirt she had been wearing. Slipping back up, and tentatively dipping under the blue top she had chosen, the same colour as the sea.

She dreamt of his hands on the skin of her stomach, back under her skirt, on the inside of her thighs. And more than only touching, caressing, stroking; she imagined him doing things that she was sure would have given him a funny turn if she'd suggested them there in the dune. She dreamt that she was holding on to him, pulling him closer to her, kissing him. It was like it had been before, just a sweet, but more intense, there was more heat, more-… they could have so easily become so very carried away, she realised as she woke up; her breath shallow and uneven, a feeling of warmth between her thighs, her nightdress damp with sweat.

She pushed the blanket away from herself, breathing deeply, appreciating the cool air that ran over her body. She rested her hand against her forehead, feeling the perspiration there. She let out another deep breath.

Lord, she thought, if a few gentle kisses in the sand had this effect on her-… She was aching for him, she realised, a longing caught up inside her, starting deep in her stomach and rising up into her throat.

Her hand rested on her hips, where his had rested earlier. It moved almost of its own accord to the inside of her thighs.

God, she loved him. God, they were going to have to do something about this.

 **Please review if you have the time.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, I hope you're still enjoying this.**

The way he looked at her had changed, as their eyes met across the servants' hall or in the corridor. It was not as shy as before, sometimes it was openly intrigued. It was not possessive, but it savoured of desire.

It made her smile to herself, because it made her think of how she was seeing him in a new way, in manifold new ways, albeit ones which she did not know for sure existed outside of her own imagination.

The first few days after the visit to the beach, they were almost too feverishly excited to speak to each other properly. They would stop and exchange a few words in the hallway, grinning like idiots at one another, never getting around to saying anything properly before someone else approached and they had to hurry off in opposite directions. Every time she saw him, her thoughts from the night before would resurface in her mind, however briefly before she could push them away, and she would feel a little bit more flustered.

After a few days, though, they began to get over this tense, ecstatic silence. When they met in the corridor, she managed to tell him, "I need to talk to you."

"Yes," he nodded.

It was fairly quiet downstairs, and she was glad when he tugged gently on her elbow, leading her into the boot room. He closed the door quietly behind them and, very carefully, settled a chair under the handle of the door.

"I don't want one of the hall boys to come barging in," he explained, "It'll give us a minute at least."

She smiled as she stretched out her arms towards him, pulling him closer to her and kissing him on the mouth. She had promised herself that she wouldn't do this, or that she would only do this after they'd talked, but she couldn't help herself. For his part, he seemed not to mind in the slightest.

"I thought you said you wanted to talk," he asked her as they parted, his arms wrapped around her waist.

"Yes," she replied, "I do. But I was also hoping you'd want me to kiss you again."

"I did want you to," he confirmed.

"Good, because I rather got that impression," she told him, and he grinned impishly at her in reply.

She smiled too for a moment, but then her expression fell serious. She raised her hands, running them carefully down the lapels of his jacket for a moment, her thumbs slipping to the underside of the fabric.

"I've wanted to talk to you ever since we were at the beach," she explained, "I've been thinking about you a lot since then."

"I've been thinking about you too," he told her quietly.

She smiled up at him.

"That's nice," she told him softly, "I'm glad."

His face was serious.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he told her, his voice as soft as hers.

She leant forwards a little to hear him, and what he said made her lean forwards, capturing his lips again with hers. He gave a sigh of surprise as he returned the kiss.

"I've been thinking," she began as they pulled apart again, talking quietly, drawing thoughtful lines on his lapel as she spoke, "That I would like it if we saw each other alone. Not in the boot room."

He seemed to swallow very hard.

"Is that something you would be alright with?" she asked him gently.

"Yes," he replied firmly, quietly, looking a little terrified, "I would like that."

She tried to smile reassuringly at him.

"Good," she replied, squeezing him briefly in her arms, "Because I've missed you. We've hardly had the chance to talk even."

"I know," he told her ruefully.

His hand had settled in her lower back, and she felt his fingers stroke her gently in consolation. She returned his rueful smile, stretching up again to give him another kiss, touching his cheek softly with her hand.

"We'll work something out," she told him, "Miracles can occur, given the right motivation. And I've definitely got that."

"I love you," he murmured.

"I love you too," she replied quietly.

He kissed her again, as if he could not quite get enough.

"I don't think we got long in here before someone tries to get in," she told him softly, "But I love you. And we'll find a time and a place. I promise you."

 **Please review if you have the time.**


	4. Chapter 4

**This is writing** **itself very slowly because I'm working and 8-6 job, but I'll get there.**

In a way, the sheer intensity with which she wants to do this with him surprises her. That she wants it at all should perhaps surprise her. It's never been very good for her before- in fact, it's been horrible, sometimes- by rights she should have been put off the idea altogether. But she's definitely not, and she finds her brain full of possible ways that they could make this work. She wants this to be special for him, because she's fairly sure he's never done this before, without the need to rush or force themselves to be too quiet. She wants to be able to lie down with him, to lie beside him in a bed. It's only a question of timing-…

There's an afternoon when his Lordship is away for the night, visiting Atticus and Lady Rose with Lady Mary and Lady Edith. Her Ladyship is staying, most of the staff is not, either because they're accompanying the trip or taking the time to visit their families. She asks him if he minds not going to see his dad. He meets her eye, and sees why she's asking him, and says that he doesn't.

This will be their night.

And it makes her nervous and scared for all she is excited. She is distracted as she helps her Ladyship with her buttons, in a different place entirely. Her Ladyship looks like she maybe notices, but decides not to comment, and she gets away quickly, Her Ladyship saying that she can see to the rest herself. And she is too distracted by far to question.

She has to wait a little while before she slopes out into the corridor, because she wants to make sure that most people will be in bed. Her movements are swift and she doesn't allow her hand to tremble, because she's sure that Mrs Hughes hasn't come upstairs yet and she doesn't want to be caught in the act of unlocking the door between the men's and women's quarters. Thank God, she's not. She opens his door without knocking and slips inside.

Of course, he has been waiting for her, sitting on the edge of his bed. He stands up as she comes in, hesitating to move forward. She has shut the door tightly behind herself, and is standing with her hand still holding on to the handle, leaning back against the wood. Her lip has found its way between her teeth somehow, and she is biting it, looking up at him almost shyly. Her heart is thudding against her ribcage.

"Hello," he says almost shyly.

"Hello," she replies softly, smiling at this formality, when he knows why she's here.

"You came," he says softly.

"Of course I did," she replies, surprised, "Did you think I wouldn't?"

"I don't know," he admits, "I wondered."

"Of course I came," she tells him, stepping forwards a little, sidling slowly towards him, "There's nowhere else I'd rather be than here."

He smiles gently at her.

"I'm glad," he replied.

She is stretching her arms out and reaching for him, running her hands along his shoulders over his shirt.

"Darling," she murmurs, "Come here. Touch me."

She feels his hands on her waist. One of her hands has reached the back of his neck. She pulls him closer and kisses him.

"I love you," she hears him murmur into the kiss.

She is undoing his shirt buttons before she knows even it. The reflex of a lady's maid coming about much more quickly that it had with her Ladyship. Not that anyone is complaining, as her hand graces softly down his bare chest and his breathing trembles.

"I love you too," she tells him softly as his shirt hits the floor behind his feet with a minute thud.

She gives him a nod of permission, telling him it's alright for him to undo her buttons too. He is slower than her of course, he's had less practice. He's tender and so so nervous at first, but as he touches her bare skin, her breasts, his control slips and he wraps her in his arms, lifting her, surprising her, carrying her towards the bed at the side of the room. She laughs softly, clutching his shoulder, smiling against his skin.

"I've waited so long for this," he tells her quietly.

Her feet are back on the ground beside the bed.

"Have you?" she asks curiously, "For how long?"

He hesitates for a moment.

"Since not long after I met you," he admits, "I've wanted-…"

She brushes her lips against his again, slowly tenderly, rewarding his honesty.

"God, I love you," she hears him murmur, and she smiles again, slipping her hand into his and pulling him towards the bed.

 **Please review if you have the time.**


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